Malaise

I had a brief stroll around East Cambridge yesterday, around sunset. For the first time in a long time, I found myself taking the the long way home, taking my time and just enjoying the scenery. I wish I could say it was relaxing, though on the plus side it was necessary.

I'm coming to grips with a strange realization. From graduation in spring of 2008 until the fall of 2010, I was living the rough and tumble, young artist life. I found myself underemployed and living on two friends' couch, working the occasional odd job and industrial to barely break even. The entire time, I was also on the search for better employment working to get CoLab off the ground. I partied a little too hard, but I also kept busy and constantly working towards something better.

Over the past year, I started making some more money and CoLab starting taking off. It's been rewarding and exciting and I'm very thankful for those two things.

And yet, I came to the realization yesterday that this has also been one of the most sincerely depressing periods of my life. If you haven't seen me posting blogs as often (and you haven't) and wonder why I'm not taking to the streets with my opinions on Herman Cain and Boston Theatre Economics like I usually do...

To paraphrase Fight Club, you're reading me in a very strange time in my life.

As I walked through the empty, dim glow of the Genzyme and MIT labs I realized that no matter how much better things get, they will also be difficult and it will be very easy to give up. CoLab makes me happy. My job makes me happy. My apartment makes me happy. So why aren't I happy?

It's worth noting, that this current slump really starting about two weeks after Dearly Beloved wrapped up. It's also worth noting that I've had slumps all my life, and I'm aware that life fluctuates and in a few weeks I'll probably feel the spark of life come back. But for the time being, I have to cope with the fact that even though life always gets better, it also always gets worse.

I have a long overdue "Man-date" this week with one of my many hetero life mates. (If confused, please consult feature film "I Love You, Man".) We have been talking about similar themes in our lives. We both experienced a severing of bonds in the past year and we both have a sense of anxious malaise, so I know what I'm experiencing is in large part a symptom of my 20's. So I figured this is something worth sharing with ya'll. I'm not sure how other people cope, but I guess I'm figuring it out for myself now.

The quarter-life crisis. It's a thing.

And I'm okay with that.

K

A Haiku For My Droid

i love my android
otherwise life is chaos
google calendar

A year ago I didn't see why the heck I would ever need a smart phone. Let's review the facts:

Occupation: Actress/waitress. No immediate need to return work emails. And plus, I didn't really want them "following me around."
Marital Status: Single. No schedules to match up. No bank accounts to sync. No soccer practice to get to.
Schedule: Perfectly accessible on my wall calendar in my bedroom. Places I needed to be: work, rehearsal, the occasional CoLab meeting.
Other devices: I own a computer and an ipod. I can check my email, go on Facebook, listen to music - all on regular basis! Why would I need a smart phone?

Check, check, check. Everything was taken care of. Why would I need a fancy phone? Six months ago, things started to change. As a company, we started to schedule weekly meetings. (Add one thing to the Google calendar.) I began working a second job. (Read: THANK YOU GOOGLE CALENDAR) And we started pre-production on NOT ONE but TWO shows. (Seriously, Google calendar OVERLOAD.) And I started to miss emails. If I was on a double, I'd head to work around 11 a.m. and sometimes not get home until after midnight. After a twelve hour day, the last thing I wanted to do was make decisions and write out opinions. And so emails weren't responded to in a timely manner. And the company wasn't running at the rate or in the manner we wanted it to.

So in April, I bought a Droid. And it literally changed the way we operated as a small business. Our entire organization runs off of GoogleDocs and Aps. I could access both my personal email and my CoLab email from my phone. Both my calendar and the company Google calendars synced to my phone. I could access all of our Docs. Which meant I could read and edit agendas, drafts of scripts, resumes, etc. I could respond to auditionees for play. and edit details for Dearly Beloved production. And suddenly, there was no question about it. I needed my Droid to run my small business. play. Discovery and Dearly Beloved really would not have gone up without it. The world moves faster every day and today, I think Ferris might say, "If you're not connected you might miss it." I'm not saying I want to be married to my phone. I love it and some days really all I want to do is beat that one pesky level of Angry Birds that I can't get through. And some days I turn off the sound because I really don't need my email following me around for the day. But there are days and times when having a Droid makes my existence as an actress, a producer, a director, and a small business owner possible. And for that, I'm glad I own it. So, thank you, Droid. Thanks for allowing me to leave my computer at home when I travel. Thanks for letting me check the weather when I want to. And thanks for letting me improve CoLab productivity. And now if you'll excuse me, those stupid pigs don't know whats coming.

Hocus Pocus

Ok, I'm going to share a secret with all of you: I am terrible at Halloween.

I know, I know, it seems like a natural fit for an actor with a costume background to just go nuts about the dress-up holiday but for some reason deciding on a costume and getting into the Halloween spirit always puts my teeth on edge. Something about the pressure for finding some funny, non-obvious, socially relevant, pithy costume and all the scary-spooky stuff happening is just too much. I'm not a horror fan and social humor in costumes is usually beyond me. I mean I love seeing trick-or-treaters come to the door and I always had fun as a kid, but somwhere along the way, Halloween lost its luster.

I have managed (just today) to throw together some plans and a costume idea for the weekend. And I'll be making little candy baggies later this week to give out on Monday night. And thankfully there's some theater out there with a vibe more than appropriate for the festivities and good to get anyone in the All-Hallows mood.

Go see:

Slasher

By: Allison Moore

Apollinaire Theatre Company

Now through November 5

Tix: $25 in Advance, $30 at the door, $15 student rush ID requires

Neighborhood 3: Requisition of Doom

By: Jennifer Haley

Happy Medium Theatre
Now through October 29

Tix: $5.00 - $17.00

The Phantom Tollbooth

By: Norton Juster and Sheldon Harnick

Wheelock Family Theatre

Tix: $20.00 - $30.00

* Mary-Liz

Breaking Up With Julius, Morrie, and June Or, The Epilogue

Closing a play is like a congenial break up. It's time for things to end but suddenly you have way too much free time on your hands and a little hole in your heart. Closing Dearly Beloved left me with a bizarre feeling in my stomach. When I woke up on Sunday, September 18, I took a breath and was thankful I was done. We spent a year and nine months from start to finish on the show and while the final two months were worth it, they were exhausting. I slept until noon for about a week straight (thank goodness for evening shifts...) and didn't feel guilty about it at all. That is, until I started to think about "what comes next."

And I'll be honest with you, I don't know what comes next. I've been wanting to write this post-show post for a long time but I haven't been able to truly organize my thoughts on the whole thing. Dearly Beloved was more successful than Kenny, Mary-Liz, and I imagined it would be and for a few brief weeks, all I could feel was the thrill of putting on a successful show. But as I return to waiting on tables, coming to terms with some major life changes, and the constant struggle for ANYONE out there to return our emails regarding performance and rehearsal space, I'm starting to realize that what I'm feeling is the lack of closure. And I'm not sure how to obtain closure from 81 pages of text and three characters that don't actually live and breathe outside of the 90 minutes run time the show allows. I think part of my problem is simply, I am so proud of this show that I want my next great exploration to just land in my lap tomorrow (or preferably yesterday, but who's counting) and that's just not going to happen. Everything in this business is about making something happen for yourself.

And we're planning - we're planning for the next piece of The CoLab adventure but the fact that I know I won't be in rehearsals again for at least another two months is still killing me. Someone recently suggested that this quiet period is me stuck in a rut as an actress and a performer. But I'd prefer to think of this time as the post-relationship mourning period. I'm rebounding from a rehearsal schedule with sleeping in and endless episodes of The Big Bang Theory, but it won't always be like that. I'll pull myself up off the mat soon enough and I'll be off again. Because, while Dearly Beloved and I may have found our resting place, my love affair with the theatre is still burning bright. And I'm not ready to move on from that just yet.

So what I'll leave you with today is some words I wrote in 2009 when I was contemplating this crazy career decision. This excerpt is from a play entitled Splatter Paint. It really is amazing how you learn new things from every relationship, every play, and still how you always feel the same. Anyways, this is how I feel today. Enjoy. And Happy Sunday.

- E

Splatter Paint, Scene Three: The Office

ELLE and BOBBI are seated at high stools around their worktable. ELLE holds a bowl of popcorn. BOBBI has a stack of photos in front of her; she holds them up one by one for ELLE.

ELLE: Crap. (Throws a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth.)

BOBBI: Okay. How about this?

ELLE: Not quite as crap as the last one.

BOBBI: This?

ELLE: Shittiest of them all.

BOBBI: Do you ever like anything you shoot?

ELLE: No. (Tosses a handful of popcorn at BOBBI.) If I was a happy artist I’m not sure I could call myself an artist.

BOBBI: You gotta choose one.

ELLE: They’re all shit.

BOBBI: Even this one?

ELLE: Oh God, put that away.

BOBBI: We have to choose one. Maybe if we go back through –

ELLE: Nooooo. Let’s take a break, okay?

BOBBI: Okay. (Pause. Stares at ELLE. ELLE throws more popcorn at her.)

ELLE: You going to keep staring at me or are you gonna ask?

BOBBI: Ask what?

ELLE: Ask me.

BOBBI: I don’t –

ELLE: Ask me about what you saw yesterday.

BOBBI: Elle, I… I didn’t…

ELLE: I know. But you saw, so ask. Seriously – I don’t mind.

BOBBI: I’d rather not.

ELLE stares at her, obnoxiously chomping on her popcorn. BOBBI gets more and more nervous as her stare bores into her. She tries to busy herself going through the photographs on the table but ELLE never drops her gaze.

BOBBI: It looked very private.

ELLE: It was private. That’s why the door was shut.

BOBBI: (Pause.) I’ve never seen you like that before.

ELLE: Well, that’s because I don’t paint topless in the center of the break room.

BOBBI: That’s not what I meant. That… possessed. No not, possessed – obsessed. No, I… I’ve never seen you look that happy.

ELLE: I wasn’t aware that I look happy when I’m embarrassed.

BOBBI: Before you realized –

ELLE: Yeah.

BOBBI: You aren’t that absorbed when you work.

ELLE: I photograph Lotus Blossoms and Sun Salutations all day. After awhile, I can only get so excited about it. (BOBBI stares at her. ELLE breaks into fake smile.) I love my job.

BOBBI: And everyone knows it. Why don’t you quit?

ELLE: I can’t quit.

BOBBI: Why? Go take pictures of children in the park, or real lotus blossoms in India, or Orville Redenbacher… something you like.

ELLE: How old are you, Bobbi?

BOBBI: Why not?

ELLE: Tell me how old you are and I’ll tell you.

BOBBI: I’ll tell you how old I am when – you know what? No. This is ridiculous. You hate your life – fix it. Don’t you listen to what they tell you at the end of each class?

ELLE: It’s kind of hard to focus when everyone’s sprinting out the door to avoid the rush.

BOBBI: Take time for yourself – renew, refresh, all that crap? They say it for a reason.

ELLE: Seriously, how old are you? Twenty?

BOBBI: Twenty-one.

ELLE: Come back to me in five years and tell me how easy it is to change up your life and do something you love. I gave up on that a long time ago. I have bills to pay, a husband, we support each other – I can’t just pick up and leave this job because I’m bored. I think we all have a grace period where we get to figure it out… I didn’t figure it out soon enough. And here I am.

BOBBI: I know that this is impolite, you being wiser and older than me, but I think that’s pathetic.

ELLE: Excuse me?

BOBBI: Pathetic. You looked happy yesterday, Eleanor. Genuinely happy –

ELLE: I’m happy with lots of things.

BOBBI: You spend forty plus hours a week doing something that you hate. That’s so… senseless! So you what, paint on the side to make yourself happier?

ELLE: What’s wrong with that? You think all of the computer analysts and accountants out there do nothing to complement their work lives?

BOBBI: I think that if you have a marketable talent – you shouldn’t use it to do something you loathe.

ELLE: I don’t loathe working here.

BOBBI: Then why do all your photos suck?

ELLE: Excuse me?

BOBBI: If you loved taking these it would show. Those photos suck because you hate taking them – and you know what the sad thing is? If you were any other person, I’d say, “hey that photo isn’t so bad.” But for someone with as much potential as you, these photos are awful. I’ve seen your shows, Elle.

ELLE: I haven’t done a show in years.

BOBBI: I looked you up.

ELLE: (More flattered and shocked than angry.) You looked me up? Where?

BOBBI: The Eveson Gallery has a file on you. I saw your stuff… and it’s really good. And I think you’re wasting, well, pretty much everything by working here.

ELLE: Which collection did you see?

BOBBI: Generational Gaps.

ELLE: (Laughs.) Oh god.

BOBBI: If you even say its crap –

ELLE: No. (Pause.) I know. If possible I try to think about that show least.

BOBBI: It’s your best one.

ELLE: Compared to what?

BOBBI: I looked through all of your stuff – it was the best by far.

ELLE: I was a kid.

BOBBI: Okay, first of all – you’re not that old –

ELLE: I grew up fast.

BOBBI: So that means you block it out?

ELLE: You saw a couple of crappy shows I put together years ago. They’re about stupid emotional crap I was going through at the time. They’re past and they should stay past. (Pause. BOBBI awkwardly stares back at ELLE.)

BOBBI: I saw something I liked as an artist and I thought I’d share. Look, I know I’m just your twenty year old assistant or whatever, but I’ve seen a few photographs in my twenty years and I know what moves me and what doesn’t and those old photographs– they moved me.

ELLE: Lotus postures aren’t supposed to move you. They’re supposed to sell yoga classes.

BOBBI: Then why does it matter if they’re crap or not? Pick one and be done with it.

ELLE: I still have to sell the classes.

BOBBI: So you do care.

ELLE: Bobbi, this is my job. It’s enough – it pays the bills, I usually don’t want to kill the people I work with.

BOBBI: So you care enough – but not too much. Should I be looking at a pie chart or something?

ELLE: Bobbi –

BOBBI: (Mimicking) My job is 40% income, 25.8% standing the assholes I work with, 12.2% the dental benefits, and maybe trying to squeeze in LIKING IT IN THE LAST FIVE PERCENT!?

ELLE is silent.

BOBBI: Tell me you’re happy. Say out loud that you’re happy living this artist’s life of quiet desperation, so quiet in fact that you won’t even admit to yourself that you’re desperate.

ELLE: I am NOT desperate. How dare you –

BOBBI: Then why do you sit behind closed doors and paint pictures of yourself on your lunch break? Why do you come in here in the mornings looking like you’re about to walk to the scaffolding? No one thinks you’re happy Eleanor.

ELLE: I’m happy. I’m fucking happy. Don’t you dare tell me I’m not happy.

BOBBI: Then tell me you are.

ELLE: I’m happy enough.

BOBBI: Oh I’m sorry. I was wrong. You’re not leading a life of quiet desperation, you’re leading a life that’s FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH ADEQUACY!

ELLE: Get out.

BOBBI: (Starts to grab her stuff.) Maybe you should take your own advice. Get out.

ELLE: (Knocks the popcorn bowl violently to the ground.) GET THE HELL OUT.

BOBBI: There. Right there? That’s what I saw when you were painting. You were alive. That painting was alive. It’s not about size or exposure, or the kind of camera you use. It’s about heart. A photo taken with heart. You can take it anywhere, of anything. If you love it, it’ll be the best photo you’ve ever taken. These photos are dead. Call me when you quit.

BOBBI exits and ELEANOR is left standing in the middle of the stage. She throws the collection of photos on the ground in fury. Pauses, stares at them, selects a random three out of the pile, puts them in a manilla envelope, drops it in a box labeled “Final Prints” and walks out.

End Scene.

When the smoke finally clears

A little more than a week ago we closed Dearly Beloved. A labor of love and a testament to using resources well and producing something good on the shoulders of a supportive community with limited means. Putting Dearly Beloved up was one of the hardest things I've ever done in theatre. A lot of what I blog about here is what I love about theatre and why I love producing and creating. And Dearly Beloved showed me a whole new set of things that I love and also things I'm good at that I didn't know about. But it also showed me some things I really hate and really struggle with when it comes to producing, in a way that I didn't expect. Not just because producing a show, no matter what your budget, is more work than any sane person wants to do, but because it was mine. My name was going to be all over this thing. And not in the tangential way your name goes in a program as a character or stage manager or crew person, where if things go horribly wrong you file it under "when bad shows happen to good people". This is my company. Our company. What can this show do to our names? What will it say about the kind of theatre I value? Will people like it? Will people COME? For the week before the show I was overwhelmed with these thoughts. Opening weekend was a complete blur of trying to hold myself together, run the show, and not dissolve into a puddle of liquid anxiety.

2 years ago I sat in the Bertucci's in Kenmore Square across from Kenny and Erika. I met Kenny performing together in Holland Productions' Aloha Say the Pretty Girls and Erika I had just met. We sat and ate and talked. Or mainly I talked and ate and they asked questions and listened. I guess it was an interview of sorts...but I wasn't really sure for what. I knew Kenny had some ideas about starting a fringe company and I knew Erika helped him run the Brandeis Theatre Collective in college and was interested in being his creative partner. I really had no idea where I fit in or what they were looking for. But as always I was just happy to talk shop with people I think are interesting. About a month later we all met again and I realized that Kenny and Erika were under the impression we were all starting a theatre company together. They had a name and a company structure all laid out. And their enthusiasm was exciting.

So I went with it.

It's been an interesting two years. I have been completely in awe of how quickly we have grown; amazed at how accomplished I feel doing the work that we've done; incredibly lucky to get to wear all the hats I want and not have to paint myself only in the "actor" or "producer" or "director" box; and proud to put my name on this company next to Kenny and Erika's.

I realize now, after DB's very very successful run and only now starting to feel normal again, that my anxiety was just a manifestation of my two year investment in The CoLab. So much of myself is stamped on our mission, our productions, our outreach, that it's impossible to separate myself from the event. Of course Kenny and Erika are stamped in there too (thank god, because without them I definitely would have liquified over opening weekend...this business surely is not for the faint of heart) and we wouldn't be The CoLab if any one of us were to jump ship. But it is hard to tie so much of your emotion and energy into something that's ultimate success does not lie solely in your hands.

The run of Dearly Beloved was a huge milestone for the company. And the amount of support and turnout we received were better than I ever hoped for. But the entire process of production was monumental for me. It took everything I had and burned it. Slowly at first and then in a huge raging blaze. And now, the smoke has cleared, and I can see so much more about what the last 2 years have meant to me. And what The CoLab means to me. And how to keep up with it and keep learning and changing with it.

A Lesson from my Grandfather

Learning is a process that is never complete. People are always susceptible to change and that change is inevitable. My hope is just to embrace it and attack it head on, whether successful or not.

I didn’t want this blog to be anything about my thoughts on what acting or theatre should be. My novelty within the entire scene deems those thoughts comical, to me especially. Although I do not consider them insignificant I know they will probably change by the time I am finished writing this blog.

Instead, I want to use this opportunity to share a few lessons that my experiences over the past year have reawakened.

My grandfather, Papa, is ninety years old. He has lived a life that I cannot even begin to fathom. He was a fighter pilot in WWII, was shot down twice (obviously survived), earned nine Distinguished Flying Crosses, the Air Medal with twenty gold stars, and countless other medals. He was the cofounder and president of a college, he married the love of his life, has six children, twenty-four grandchildren and fourteen great grandchildren, and the list of achievements goes on.

The root of his successes are the relationships he has been able to build throughout his life. He has performed countless acts of generosity that he will never admit to. He treats everyone he meets with the same kindness and genuine interest. One of my earliest memories is going to Papa’s office and into the back door of one of the college kitchens. He would greet everyone from head chef to dishwasher by name and ask them about specific members of their families (unbeknownst to me he also had a habit of giving spontaneous bonuses to these same employees).

He had a tight knit group of over twelve very close friends. He and my grandmother, Nana, are the only surviving members. Sometimes it is hard to understand why these things happen but I think in this case I can offer an explanation. Throughout his life, and to this day, he has attacked every day with incredible zeal. He has managed to discover the perfect recipe for easy-going ambition. He breathes life and lives without regret. One of his favorite quotes, and one that he uses whether making good time to dinner or sinking a ten foot putt, is “Plan your work, work your plan”. While easy to say, this quote is not as easy to put into practice, though he would make it seem otherwise. When things work out for me and more often when they do not, I think of this quote.

It’s easy to lose track of things when going through the day-to-day grind. Having to meet new people on a weekly basis through my newfound theatre adventures has shown me once again that the smallest action or inaction, whether good or bad, affects someone else. Someone is always watching and listening. Understanding that people will be affected by words and deeds is crucial. It is not always possible to understand it completely but just thinking about it feels like a step in the right direction. It seems whenever I have been in an uncomfortable situation, or a situation that involves choosing words carefully, I try thinking to myself “what would Papa do”. This thought has helped me more than I know and I wish it would always come to mind.

In theatre it has become shockingly clear to me that it is essential to become comfortable with those around you. It is not easy. Embracing awkward moments and taking a risk, with the possibility of making that moment more awkward, is something for which I can thank Papa. He is the king when it comes to interrupting uncomfortable silences. Although I can’t pull off some of his jokes yet (server at a restaurant comes to the table and asks if he wants any dessert, he nods to Nana saying “I have my dessert right here”), it is a continuous learning process which I am currently enjoying.

Getting involved in so many new projects all at once (classes, plays, and other shows) has made me understand the importance of these lessons. “WWPD” finds itself in many aspects of my life and it has become even more apparent over the past year. I am so thankful for it. My point, if there is one, is not to try to influence anyone else but to express how grateful I am that these ideas have once again come to light.

Even if the only thing that is taken from this blog is that Patrick has an unnecessarily large family, I hope this can at least add another ingredient to the pot. For me, right now, I don’t know what kind of a product or result will come of these experiences and thoughts. Right now, I’m happy just enjoying the process.

**This post was written by Patrick Poulin who you can see as Julius in Dearly Beloved opening Friday September 9 running through September 17. Tickets: $11.50 online presale, $13.00 cash only at the door. www.brownpapertickets.com

Hearing yourself think

I am now of the opinion that everyone should experience having their own words read out loud in front of them. Even for a minute, just so they literally can hear themselves think for the first time. It doesn’t have to be with actors on a stage or in front of a camera. Even if you have to pay someone 15 bucks to read something you scribbled on a Dunkin Donuts napkin to random patrons until the manager bans you from Dunkin Donuts for life. And lets face it, that’d be a double blessing because you could probably stand to lose a few pounds.

OK, maybe you don’t, but I should probably lose more than a few.

My point is, that nothing helps you understand your own thought process and its place in the world more than listening to and observing how someone else interprets and interacts with what you’ve created. It gives you remarkable and startling insight into how the world perceives what you say and do. It’s the artistic equivalent of hearing your voice on an answering machine for the first time. Your voice sounds almost foreign to you even though it’s using the same words you did when you left the message and then you’re struck by the fact that this is how the world hears you.

When someone reads what you’ve written out loud for the first time, often, jokes that you thought were obvious were missed; subtext you thought was clear turns out to be muddied; and elements of characterization you thought were unnecessary turn out to be vital. It’s these moments of miscommunication between artists that make it obvious how much collaboration is an intrinsic part of theatre. This collaboration creates a desire to make your intentions clearer for the sake of your collaborators and the work drives you back to your pen, keyboard or hammer and chisel to begin refining your work. Because, thankfully, unlike your voice on an answering machine, you can work to make what you write more like what you heard in your head.

I’d like to thank The CoLab for taking their time with Dearly Beloved and allowing me to hear my words out loud with a plethora of different voices and as many times as was practical. The script would not have been as close to what I imagined without this opportunity.

** This post was written by Brendan Doris-Piece, author of Dearly Beloved premiering at Unity Somerville TWO WEEKS FROM TODAY!

Dearly Beloved
by: Brendan Doris Pierce
Directed by: Erika Geller

Featuring:
Alyce Householter
Patrick Poulin
Tony Rios

September 9, 10, 16, & 17
TICKETS HERE: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/190125